can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars,
I could really use a wish right now;
Life had rarely been kind to her, and so it hardly bothered her when he wasn’t kind, either. It’s not that she had not noticed; the snap of his voice may as well have been teeth against her skin for how surely she felt their sting. It just was not enough to drive her away. She was kind to nearly a fault—not in the way of her mother, who had adopted an almost overly passive and obedient nature as a way of survival. Evenstar was kind when others were not because she simply did not know how else to be. She was not made of harder things; their anger did not stoke a fire inside of her, did not awaken a need to retaliate.
All it did was make her ache—make her wonder what they have endured, to spark such pain and fury.
Something about the way he is suddenly so subdued fits like a barb inside of her chest. It did not feel like an accomplishment to her, to see someone with their spirit wounded. She doesn’t mean to pity him— something about the word pity felt wrong, or insulting—but she does feel sorry for him, in a way. Sorry that he does seem to be at home in this equine form. Sorry that perhaps it was the eclipse disrupting his shifting and keeping him in a shape he did not want to be. Mostly just sorry that there is no way for her to fix it. “You don’t have to apologize,” she tells him in the same hush of her voice, turning to offer him a smile through the dark, even if he couldn't see it.
She settles there on the outskirts, her eyes continuously flicking to the black abyss of the open meadow. She tries to ward off the uneasy feeling that had taken up home in her stomach by focusing instead on the stallion. She is still close to him, no longer touching but close enough that she could, if she wanted. There was something reassuring in having him next to her even if he didn't seem to particularly like her; she didn't think she had the right to be picky right now. “I don’t mingle either. Not anymore, at least,” she says, and she is careful to keep the wavering sorrow from her voice. She was not alone by choice; not really. It was just easier for her and everyone around her if she was. Until she could fully control the emotions that they send like a shower of rain from the sky, soaking her to the bone in things she does not wish to feel.
But she is so, so tired of being alone, and the once-wolf is, for now, seemingly trapped alongside her until he decides to brave the night, and she finds herself hoping that he will want to stay just a moment longer. Even despite his previous panic, there is something far more steady about him than most she has encountered, and she finds she doesn't have to work nearly as hard to keep his emotions away from her. “My name is Evenstar.” There is a noticeable pause, before she ventures to voice an observation hesitantly, “You don’t like your horse form very much, do you?”
I'm praying that this stairway leads somewhere like Heaven's door,
and when you get there don't look down
@[Crevan]